


From Him to Eternity

by barush



Category: Linkin Park
Genre: Drug Addiction, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-10
Updated: 2012-03-10
Packaged: 2017-11-01 18:12:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/359768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barush/pseuds/barush
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Living a lie seems to be the simplest solution at first. Until you realize you're not the only one</p>
            </blockquote>





	From Him to Eternity

Fishing deep into your pocket you grab all the dirty, crumpled notes that are there and hand them over to the cab driver. You’d tell him ‘keep the change‘ but you’re not even sure if you’ve given him enough so you leave the car as quickly as possible and pray he won’t decide to hunt you down and demand any more cash because, frankly, that was all you had. As the taxi speeds away you let out the breath you didn’t even know you were holding and gradually slow your jogging till you’re walking normally again.

Nothing has changed during the month you’ve been gone. The neighbourhood is as quiet as ever before, the same cars are parked in front of the same houses; all flowers in the perfect gardens are in bloom. You’ve never been too keen on living here but it’s not like you have much of a choice. Wait, scratch that, you don’t have any other choice but to live in this wannabe paradise cut straight out of the American dream. Your foster parents kicked you out the minute you turned eighteen and since campus isn’t an option anymore, you’re stuck here. Sure, other people would be ecstatic given the chance to start over like this; however, your poor excuse for an existence couldn’t be further from an average American citizen.

Slowly approaching your final destination, a navy blue medium sized house with a rather huge garden, your stomach starts to feel funny. It’s probably your guilty conscience catching up with you at last after the three weeks of successfully ignoring it, you think. The closer you are to the house, the weaker your knees get; your breath gets shorter and the sweat sliding down your forehead gets colder. Nobody other has the ability to turn you into a pile of walking Jell-O but him.

You still haven’t decided to be upset or not about Chester’s habit of not drawing the curtains. Ever. He likes to be on display, for everyone to see the culinary wonders he produces in the kitchen. Or so he thinks, because usually it’s a miracle if the food even looks edible. You grin and bear it, but secretly you think you have a better chance to die of food poisoning than of the nasty habit of yours.

And there he is, your boyfriend running around the kitchen, on display just like he likes it. Even though the sun rays hitting the window are reflected straight into your eyes, you can still make out the Stone Temple Pilots t-shirt Chester’s wearing underneath his white apron. With a sudden pang of guilt you quickly look away. No, you won’t tell him you’ve fucked Scott Weiland.

Or Bob, for that matter.

“Hi. My name’s Bob and I am an addict.”

“Hi Bob,” everyone had replied in unison.

Bob, my ass, you thought.

You’d seen enough Stone Temple Pilots and Velvet Revolver videos with Chester to know you were right this time.

Still, when you accidently bumped into him in the corridor after your therapy session you said, “Hi Bob. I’m Cornelius.” Just to keep things a tad bit more anonymous, as if it mattered.

And then you fucked.

Bob or Scott. Scott or Bob. Who cares? During your own private sessions you didn’t ever call him anything else but God anyways. In just a few days you’d tried out more sexual positions than during your whole life. More than Chester could even imagine. Not that he’d want to though. Because Chester, he likes it quick and neat so he doesn’t sweat too much. Afterwards, he always changes the sheets and washes them immediately, the good housewife he is.

You’re just waiting for the moment he tells you that sex is overrated anyways and that you should find a different hobby. Honestly, it’s not like you’d care if it happened. Times change and people too; you’re not that love struck teenager anymore.

Then again, some people will never change. The arms that suddenly embrace you might have gotten a bit stronger during the years you’ve been on the receiving end of those hugs; however, the person remained the same. Or so it seems.

“Brad, you look so amazing now that you’re…”

Chester trails off, not able to continue his sentence.

You’re glad he does. With a rapidly increasing heartbeat you’re waiting, your whole body rigid with anticipation. No, he won’t speak anymore. He’s as afraid to fuck things up as you are, you can feel it. A wave of relief washes over you and you give your boyfriend a tight smile. The one you receive in return is even more reserved but still somewhat genuine. You can’t stand his presence anymore, so you run.

Safely locked in your own bedroom, you slide down the wall to sit on the hard, cold floor. That wasn’t the reunion Chester has expected, you’re sure. You just couldn’t look into his eyes or make any more contact; the fear of being busted is just too strong.

Slowly, you crawl towards your perfectly made bed, so exhausted that you don’t even notice how unnatural it looks. Once settled right in the middle you fish into your pocket for the second time that day, this time taking out a small bag with a few white pills and stashing it safely under your pillow.

That was close, you think, but now you know that it’s true what they say, that people see only what they want to see. With this thought you fall into a deep slumber.

***

Jolting upright, you find yourself suddenly wide awake. The curtains are drawn in so you can’t say what time of the day it is and if you should be up yet. Your head is throbbing and it feels like thousands of tiny needles are stabbing your brain over and over again.

Somebody’s at the door, judging by the loud banging that’s coming from downstairs. You’re surprised it’s woken you up; normally you sleep through the whole day when coming down. With slow hesitant steps, your whole body aching, you make your way towards the locked door to your room. Your hands are shaking so much that it takes a great effort to turn the key in the lock but in the end the door opens with a soft click.

“Coming!”

The pounding doesn’t cease though. Whoever’s at the door, they’re persistent.

Quickly scanning the kitchen and living room area you realize Chester has probably gone to work already. It must be around midday, the sun is high up in the sky and the day is brighter than ever.

Not even thinking about it that much, you grab the handle, prepared to tell the annoying neighbour or postman to fuck off; you’re in no mood to fake smiles and try to be polite. However, when your still blurry vision focuses on the man outside the door, your mouth opens wide, without you having any control of the action. That’s not exactly what you’ve expected. Not in the slightest.

“You look like shit, Brad.”

Rob.

Quickly recovering from the initial shock, you do the first thing that comes to your mind. You slam the door in the guy’s face. Dealing with stressful situations has never been one of the things you’d be good at and it’s just been proved to you again. Somebody would maybe give up and go away, but this was Rob…

“Don’t be pathetic Brad, open the door.”

You know you have no other choice. Determined to get rid of him as soon as possible you grab the handle once more and step out onto the front porch, closing the door after yourself.

“Won’t you invite me in?”

“No.”

It hasn’t been so long since you saw him last and still it seems that his hair got much longer during such a short period of time. The dark locks frame Rob’s face in a way that makes him look rather dark and mysterious. You’re wondering why you’ve never noticed he resembles a romantic poet so much. Lord Byron maybe, or Percy Bysshe Shelley even.

“So this is your boyfriend’s house, eh?”

Rob’s voice tears you away from dark forests, deep lakes and unconquerable fortresses and throws you back into reality. It shouldn’t be so easy to escape to places that ceased to exist ages ago but at times your imagination is the only thing keeping you sane.

“What do you want from me, Rob?”

But even before you’ve actually voiced the question you knew the answer. It is always the same.

Rob’s face softens while he replies, “I just want to help you.”

A flash of anger runs through your whole body but still you manage to keep your voice calm. “I don’t want your help. I don’t need it. Nor anybody else’s for that matter.”

“Why did you then -”

“It was a mistake. I left.”

You have to cut him off; having heard the same arguments over and over again, you’re growing tired of this. Why can’t people see you have everything under control?

“That’s why I’m here. Brad, please. If you don’t want to do it for yourself, do it for him then! Does Chester know you haven’t finished the whole process?”

Silence.

“He doesn’t, eh? You think you can hide it from him? For how long? Till he finds you on his kitchen floor, choking on your own vomit?”

A sudden wave of rage clouds your vision and before you know it you’re violently shoving Rob backwards, towards his car.

“Fuck off!”

Sitting safely in his vehicle, Rob turns to you and says, “I’ll be back,” before he speeds off.

Still fuming and clenching your fists you spin on your heels and head back to the house. How dare he? How dare he invade your private life and bother you with his shit? Your problems ceased being his the minute you left the clinic; he has no power over you anymore.

Because of the distraction the tirade with Rob has caused you haven’t even realized how bad you actually feel. Cold sweat is running down your face, your hands are shaking and you’re sure you’d throw up if there was anything in your stomach.

Quickly you run up to your room and reach under the pillow, swiftly taking out the little plastic bag. After popping two of the white pills into your mouth you lie down for a while to wait for the desired effect to come.

You might have been lying there for minutes or hours even, you’re not sure, but the bottom line is you feel better than ever now. So full of energy and life, ready to go out and do anything.

Looking at the small bag in your hand you realize there’s only one pill remaining. It’s time to visit Mike.

***

It’s not like you’re a fan of long walks or anything but Chester has taken the car to work and really, you’re not that stupid to drive in your current state anyway. With no spare money to waste on a cab you’ve ended up going to Mike’s apartment on foot.

Breathing in the fresh air you feel the adrenaline pumping in your veins. Even though your heart is racing like a sprinter trying to break a world record the thoughts in your head are clear and focused. Focused on the one person you’d like to never see again but you know you will have to face him at one point or another.

Rob. You can’t help but see yourself in him. The enthusiastic student full of energy and new ideas, ready to help those in need. The person you once used to be. The period of your life you miss so much.

Unlike Rob, who’s chosen psychology as his major and is doing an internship in a rehab for drug addicts, you’d been always attracted to something more abstract. Kids at your school were calling you ‘bookworm’ since you can remember but you never voiced any protest; you enjoyed it. Literature used to be your only love for a long time. So when you found out you would be able to go to a university because of the scholarship you had got, the choice was clear. Around this time your life seemed to be cut straight out of a fairytale. And in your opinion, you really fucking deserved it after the shit you had to go through with your foster parents.

As the good literature student you were, there wasn’t a day you wouldn’t go to a book shop, in particular this little store just on the corner of the biggest street in the city; it was cozy and seemed to have just all the books you ever desired. It didn’t take long to notice the hot shop assistant who was obviously queer, nor did it last an extended period of time for you to get into his pants while reciting Shakespeare.

Yes, those times were the best in your life. Until everything changed.

Approaching the old, worn building that accommodates Mike’s apartment you speed up your pace. It’s no good to be wandering around this neighborhood alone, even in the middle of the day. You haven’t bothered to check if Mike was actually home so when the door to his dirty little flat opens you think this might not be such a hopeless day after all.

“Brad!” Mike grins and pulls you into a one-armed hug, as if it hasn’t been just a few days since he saw you last.

“Fancy a beer?”

You nod and go to sit down on his tattered sofa, which dominates the small living room. Looking around, you see a stock of plain canvases sitting in a corner, a bunch of unfinished paintings lying around and one obviously still drying piece leaning against a colourful wall. ‘Artistic environment’ Mike calls it, ‘mess’ Chester would say. You don’t particularly care though; it’s not the guy’s art you’ve come to buy.

Mike Shinoda, the man of two faces. A college art student with an incredible talent, or so he thinks, and a drug dealer with reasonable prices and an always full stock, or so he claims. Nobody of his college friends ask him where the visions and ideas for his surreal paintings come from and if they do they’re dismissed with a one word answer – imagination. You are one of the few people who know that without LSD Mike would be probably just painting walls, as he is very careful not to let those two lives blend together. And, to your great surprise, it’s working pretty well so far.

You love those little moments with Mike when you can just catch up on life and pretend you’re still the innocent kids you once used to be, playing with Mike’s toys and being full of glee. Sooner or later though, the ‘serious business’ must take place and you’re thrown back to the harsh reality.

“The usual?”

“Yeah.”

You’ve had a fair share of different stuff just to realize in the end that speed works the best for you. It gives you an awesome high and makes you so energetic to last ages without food or sleep. Of course it has a lot of drawbacks but one must be prepared for that when they voluntary succumb to the world of forbidden substances. Unfortunately, it’s also so expensive that even though Mike’s prices are ‘reasonable’ the salary you used to have in Wal-Mart, before they had kicked you out, wasn’t enough to cover your growing habit anymore.

From experience though you know that people aren’t that likely to notice an occasional disappearance of a few notes from their wallet so that’s why you buy just enough meth to last only for two or three days and tell Mike you’ll be back for more soon.

***

It’s already dark when you finally get back to Chester’s house. You’re past calling it home, it’s just not something that’d roll off your tongue easily. You’ve had a few heated discussions about that and in the end you managed to beat Chester with your arguments. He doesn’t force you anymore, just rolls his eyes ostentatiously when you say ‘your house’.

You had it all thought out; you’d silently slip past the kitchen in case Chester is still awake and jump straight into your bed. However, you haven’t considered, well, this.

“Ah, baby, finally! Long day at work?”

Silently, you nod, the only thing you’re capable of doing in your sudden stupor. The dinning table is set with the fanciest plates and wine glasses Chester possesses. There are two fresh red roses in an elegant vase right in the middle of the table and you can smell lasagna, your favourite food. Desperately you’re going through all the dates you’ve worked so hard to memorize but nothing comes up for today. The only thing you manage to get out is, “What…? Why…?” and you feel more pathetic than ever.

“Well, don’t you think today is worth celebrating?” Chester asks sweetly with a smile playing on his lips.

You just give him a questioning look.

“Oh, Brad. Today it’s a month you’ve been clean,” Chester says happily and draws you in for a hug.

“Yeah,” you breathe out, feeling nauseous all of a sudden.

The lasagna is great. Chester must have ordered it in, for sure. You’re listening to him babble about everything that has happened during the month you’ve been gone and you haven’t seen each other. It’s difficult to focus though when you’re trying to suppress your gagging reflex with every bite you take.

Rob was right; you cannot hide your dirty little secret from your boyfriend for long. Not when he knows you practically inside out and has seen you high so many times. What the hell have you been thinking?

You honestly thought you could do it this time when you signed up into the clinic. You wanted to end it all and you wanted to live a normal life again, maybe go back to school and get your degree. However, all that lasted no more than a week and you caved in again. Your will was weaker than you’d thought and you couldn’t fight the addict in you anymore.

For a while after you left rehab you even considered leaving Chester for good and moving in with Mike to live a life of a junkie, a failed existence. The love you feel for Chester has somehow disappeared over the years and you’re not even sure what you feel towards him anymore.

The truth is though, you can’t live alone. You need somebody to rely on and just to be there to pick you up when you fuck up again. Deep inside you’re still the scared child that craves to be taken care of. That’s why you’ve chosen to live a lie.

After finishing the meal and a bottle of red wine Chester gets up to clean the table and wash the dishes. However, you decide to take action. To make him forget the purpose of his little celebration, if just for this moment. Grabbing his hand you spin him around and kiss him passionately. When you part in the need of air you see Chester’s eyes are wide with surprise, but there’s a small smile playing on his lips.

You’ve never let Chester top you. Not once in your five year long relationship. You’re just not the submissive type and the prospect of somebody sticking anything up your ass makes you feel rather gross. However, you don’t even know if Chester actually minds because talking of sex makes him uncomfortable. Hell, the act itself makes him uncomfortable. You have a feeling he’s been enduring the whole ordeal of sexual intercourse just to please you.

In the beginning, you used to wonder if it was just the lack of experience as he was a virgin when you met him, but after five years of trying to make it at least enjoyable for Chester with no success, you figured he just didn’t like the whole sex thing.

However, that has never stopped you from taking him to bed with you and having your way with his body.

Taking off his clothes and planting soft sensual kisses all over his hairless chest, you reach for the lube. Gently, you flip Chester over so he’s lying on his stomach now and start to prepare him with your fingers. It doesn’t take long ‘till he more or less relaxes under your skillful touch, now used to the whole procedure.

Once you‘re inside him you softly kiss the nape of Chester’s neck while waiting for his muscles to adjust to the intrusion. Once you feel he’s ready you start to move in and out, slowly at first. Chester’s heavy breathing is like music to your ears and the sweat on his skin tastes like honey. You love the little whimpering noises he makes. The fact that you never know if they’re a sign of pleasure or pain turns you on even more. The selfish bastard in you rather enjoys Chester’s discomfort during sex, even though you’d never admit it to anybody.

You might not love him how you once used to but these moments are still sacred for you.

After you’ve both come your boyfriend gets up and retreats to the bathroom to have a shower, as usual. In your desperate effort to please Chester tonight and make him believe you’ve actually changed for the better you even change the ‘dirty’ sheets as you know he’ll appreciate it.

The smile he gives you upon seeing this little gesture makes your stomach feel funny, just like in the old days. And that scares you a bit.

It’s not easy to fall asleep with totally oblivious Chester curled up at your side and your guilty conscience trying to make you feel even worse. Eventually you fall into a light slumber haunted by nightmares of colourful monsters trying to rip your tongue out.

***

“Brad, we need to talk.”

It’s probably midday, or even afternoon already, and you’ve just stumbled into the kitchen, still half-asleep. You’re wondering why Chester isn’t at work yet when it hits you, it’s Saturday. The prospect of a huge period of free time possibly spent with your boyfriend makes you a bit nervous. The serious look on his face doesn’t make it any better.

“I know you don’t work at Wal-Mart anymore.”

“Yeah?”

You’re wondering what else he knows.

“I called there today to ask about your schedule and they told me they didn’t approve of the month long leave and sacked you.”

“Yeah.”

There’s really nothing more to say to that.

“I just… Brad, I just want you to know I’m not mad you didn’t tell me, okay? I know what you’re going through right now, what you’ve gone through already, and if you don’t want to talk about it just yet it’s fine. However, whenever you feel like it I’m here for you.”

Overwhelmed with emotions you can’t really place you don’t attempt to speak anymore and just nod silently, not even looking up at Chester.

“I love you,” he says while taking your hand in his and placing it on his face.

“I’m so proud of you,” Chester continues, whispering in your ear before he leaves the kitchen to go upstairs.

You’re left there alone, lost in your thoughts and thoroughly confused.

***

Standing in the middle of Chester’s room, breathing heavily, you’re starting to feel rather desperate. You’ve rummaged through the whole house, looked into all possible and impossible secretive places, under all carpets, paintings and mattresses but still didn’t find anything. Not even one old crumpled note. You have no idea when Chester stopped keeping cash in the house.

You’re feeling so terrible that even the lack of money doesn’t stop you though. You need your fix.

Walking down the streets you can’t stop looking over your shoulder. It feels like everybody is watching you, giving you nasty looks and pointing fingers. When you speed up to escape all the glares and stares from those anonymous people, almost jogging now, it just seems to draw even more attention. The buildings are closing in on you; street lamps are about to jump into your way any second and the pavement is trying to swallow your feet. Your steps echo in your head, creating a frightening cacophony of noises that is slowly driving you crazy.

You’ve never been happier to see Mike’s apartment.

“Dude, you look like shit,”

You’re starting to hear those words more and more often from various people lately. Past caring now though, you force himself into his flat.

“Mike –“

“Wait, let me guess, you have no money, right?”

You’re wondering if your childhood friend has become a mind reader during those few days you haven’t seen him or if he just has encountered so many desperate broke junkies before to recognize one when they turn up unexpectedly on his doorstep. Somehow the latter appears to be more accurate.

You just nod as an answer to his question.

“Well, you know the rules, Brad.”

Right, you do.

You’d actually been the first person to hear them.

“You either pay or I get laid. Your choice.”

Mike has always been a little bit of a slut and by the looks of things, it seems nothing has changed.

“Mike, please, I need it.”

“Okay, I’ll fuck you and then you can have whatever you want.”

You’ve never slept with Mike. In the beginning the craving had never been so desperate you couldn’t wait for a few days till you had enough to afford the little of weed you desired. And just when the studies got tougher and you needed to stay up throughout whole nights to write essays and memorize hundreds of names, you met Chester, your gold mine. You’ve never questioned where his money came from even though it was obvious they didn’t pay him that much at the bookshop he was working at, you just took what had been offered.

Eventually, when you had to drop out of the college, Chester had forced you to at least find a job to cover some of your expenses, saying his sources weren’t inexhaustible.

“I need it now.”

Mike’s starting to unbuckle his belt wearing this sly smile on his face.

“Sure Brad, just come here for a second.”

His laugh becomes a devious cackle to your ears; his eyes are huge and sparkling as he closes in on you.

From that moment on, everything is a blur.

Mike’s big dirty hands are reaching out to you, trying to grab the hem of your t-shirt. Your first instinct is to shove him. Hard. Then you just watch him stumbling backwards and tumbling down to the ground with his head landing right on the sharp corner of his wooden table.

A rather large pool of blood appears almost immediately on the brown carpet of Mike’s living room. His eyes, wide with surprise, blink a few times before they remain open, staring lifelessly at you.

Numb with shock you grab the few little white pills lying scattered all over Mike’s sofa and bail.

Outside of the apartment you break into a run and don’t stop ‘till you’re out of Mike’s neighbourhood.

***

“Brad, I… I… Sorry?”

When you’ve seen Rob’s car parked in front of your boyfriend’s house you certainly didn’t expect to find him half naked with his hands in Chester’s boxers.

Nor did you expect Chester, who is basically frigid, to be flushed and enjoying Rob’s actions or the wave of jealousy that has just swept over you.

“I can explain it, Brad. It’s not how you think it is, really. I just wanted -”

“Get out.”

“Wait, just let me -”

“Get. Out.”

Rob just gulps, picks up his discarded t-shirt and leaves without another word, not daring to look back even once.

Your cold glare turns to Chester.

“Brad, I -” he starts, stuttering slightly.

“So you want sex, huh?”

Chester’s eyes widen as you grab his arm violently and drag him towards the kitchen counter. All the emotions you’ve been holding in since the incident with Mike, the withdrawal, everything suddenly crashes down on you like a ton of bricks and you need to let it all out.

There’s no need to get into Chester’s pants as Rob has done all that work for you, so you just slide down his boxers. He’s trembling and breathing hard under you, obviously frightened by your actions. You can practically feel the fear radiating off him and that turns you on even more.

“I bet he’s told you everything, right? So now you know I didn’t last in the fucking rehab. I’ve been lying to you all this time. Do you still love me, Chester?”

Swiftly, you thrust into him, not bothering with preparation. Ignoring the cry of pain, you start to move in and out, speeding up your pace with every thrust, indulging in the tight heat surrounding your cock.

“Please…” Chester croaks, his voice full of anguish.

“Please what? Please harder? Please faster? Fucking tell me!”

“Please stop…” he whispers, his voice trembling the same way as the rest of his body.

“Sorry, can’t hear you,” you snarl while picking up the pace, getting closer to your climax.

After a few more violent thrusts you come inside Chester and pull out immediately, watching him slide down the kitchen counter and curl on the floor in a fetal position, resembling a lost child.

Breathing hard you turn on your heel, ready to bail, not fully comprehending what you’ve just done.

“Brad, please, don’t leave me.”

You turn around, even though you’re fully aware of what you’ll see already. Chester’s kneeling on the floor, both hands wrapped tightly around your leg, great tears leaping from his eyes. There’s a thin line of blood sliding down his thighs and slowly dripping onto the kitchen floor. The sight makes your stomach turn into knots.

“Please, I love you. Don’t go,” he sniffs, looking about to break down any second.

You’ve never seen anything more grotesque in your entire life.

When you try to move your foot Chester doesn’t let go. He’s crawling right behind you like a little child, leaving a trail of blood after him while shamelessly begging you to stay.

You’re growing more and more disgusted. With him, with yourself, with your whole life. Not even the heart wrenching sobs can stop you now; you need to get out.

Without a last glance at the pathetic heap of mess you’ve turned your boyfriend into, you leave the house.

***

Lighting up a cigarette you lie down on a cold bench in the middle of a park and close your eyes. Your legs are so numb you can’t even feel them anymore. Walking around the city, mostly searching for information, has taken its toll on you.

So far you’ve heard through the grapevine that Mike has been found dead in his apartment. You’ve been surprised to find out that the police closed the case as an accident with no further investigation. At first, you thought that the outcome would make you rest more easily.

Only, it didn’t.

Mike had been your best friend. The only person, except for Chester, you really cared about in this whole God damn city. And now he’s gone. Because of you.

“It was an accident,” you whisper to yourself, naively thinking that voicing the thought aloud will change something about the way you feel.

Only, it doesn’t.

You still feel like a murderer and this city is your cage. Your prison. You need to leave before it swallows you up whole.

It’s getting on for midnight so you decide it’s late enough for you to go back to Chester’s house for the last time. To take a few of your personal things and maybe even something that would be well worth selling and therefore would enable you to start over new, from a scratch.

The hope that your ex-boyfriend, as you’ve already broken up with him mentally, would be asleep is shattered upon entering Chester’s house. The unmistakable smell of weed hits your nose instantly and before you even realize it the power of habit takes you to the living room, instead of going straight upstairs.

“Brad, it’s so nice of you to show up again. Come here and sit with me?”

Chester’s sitting on the sofa in the middle of the room, legs propped up on the small glass table, smoking a joint. Judging by the stubs lying on the floor, it’s not his first one.

Curiosity killed the cat, you think as you slowly approach the couch and sit down beside Chester, unable to do otherwise for some unexplainable reason.

“As an answer to your question, Brad,” Chester slurs, turning his head towards you, “yes I do still love you. Even though you lied to me.”

You just gulp soundlessly upon hearing the cold tone of the man sitting right next to you. Having no idea where this one-sided conversation is going you decide to stay silent for now.

“I am no saint myself,” he chuckles at his own poor joke and takes a drag on his joint.

“It’s time to tell you a story, Brad. You’re the first person to hear it. Excited much?”

The maniac grin on Chester’s face sends chills down your spine. You’ve never seen him like this before and it’s starting to scare you.

“When I turned eighteen I decided to come out to my parents. I’d known I was gay ever since I could remember and my eighteenth birthday felt like the right time to inform my parents as well. Don’t ask me why the hell I thought so, I have no idea.”

He trails off for a while, looking dreamily out the window, a slight frown forming between his eyebrows.

“You know, I expected shock, anger or maybe even hatred. Anything but silence. Not those cold blank stares.

The next morning, when I went down for breakfast, my both parents stood in the kitchen waiting for me. My father gave me two sets of keys and an envelope. One to my new car and the other to my new house in L.A.. In the envelope, there was my new address, one thousand dollars in cash and a bank account number. They told me to change my name and never try to contact them again. I’m sure they’ve disowned me by now.”

You don’t know what to say. It’s too much to take in all at once.

You’ve always thought Chester came here from Phoenix to build a career in music and ended up working in a bookshop. The lack of talk about his parents didn’t strike you as weird, having no family yourself.

Taking the last drag on his joint before stubbing it out, Chester continues.

“I had to throw him away, the person I used to be, in order to be able to forget and start over new so suddenly. It took me a while but eventually I created Chester Bennington, the complete opposite of the old me. The shy guy you fell in love with once.”

Sharply turning to face you directly, he adds, “Also, the one you don’t love anymore.”

It’d be an understanding to say you’ve never been so creeped out in your entire life. This is not the Chester you know; it’s somebody completely different. Somebody frightening and intimidating. So cold.

Hesitantly, you get up from the sofa and say, “I’ll just pack my things and leave.”

You’re almost out of the room when Chester speaks up again.

“I know you killed Mike, Brad.”

You stop dead in your tracks, your breath hitching in your throat.

“You killed Mike and then raped me. If I were you I’d think twice about leaving me.”

His hot breath is warming the nape of your neck now, sending chills down your spine.

“I love you, Brad. I’ll do anything to keep you by my side.”

“You wouldn’t,” you croak out.

“Try me.”

The whole situation is so surreal that you think it’s just some kind of a twisted nightmare.

So you do.

***

The day is rather cold for a beginning of autumn, you think, crossing your arms across your chest while going back home from your night shift. The gay bar you’re working at as a bouncer isn’t that far from your little condo so you can easily go there on foot. It’s not like you’d have money for a bus though because everything seems to be so much more expensive in San Francisco.

It’s been three months since you left your hometown and your old life behind.

Before leaving the city for good, you stopped at Mike’s abandoned flat and took everything that was remaining in his secret stash. It turned out to be just enough for a ticket to San Francisco and then some.

You haven’t heard from Chester during all this time.

Even though you’d never admit it to anybody, you were really scared by his monologue the last night you saw him. However, you still decided to pack your stuff and leave the upcoming morning without as much as saying good-bye.

Up until now, you have no idea if any of what he told you was true but frankly, you don’t care anymore. This long chapter of your life is closed and it’s time to start another one with new settings and characters.

***

“Brad, what’s up?”

Dave is looking at you with a concerned expression on his face.

Dave, your boyfriend. He offered you a joint at a particularly slow night in the club and you ended up getting high together. Since then he practically hasn’t left your flat. It’s been almost a month now.

Dave turned out to be everything that Chester wasn’t. Outgoing, messy and always horny. He’s even a really good cook when you have enough money to buy something else than the cheapest fast-food.

“Everything alright? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

You had to involuntary chuckle at that as Dave practically nailed it with the comment. Ignoring him for now you quickly grab your cell phone and find a number you’ve never actually used despite having had it for years.

“I’m sorry sir, but no Chester Bennington has ever worked here.”

Your head starts to spin.

“Are you sure? He’s rather tall, thin, short dark hair, brown eyes…”

“I’m positive, sir, we haven’t even had a male shop assistant for over two years now.”

You hang up the phone without another word, your stomach in knots.

“Brad, what’s going on? Who the hell is Chester? And what about that letter? Aren’t you going to explain anything?”

Wordlessly you hand the piece of paper to Dave.

It’s been cut out of a local Los Angeles newspaper, a short obituary dating almost a month back. It says that Chester was found dead near his house, probably overdosed on heroin. The article is accompanied by a small black and white picture.

A picture of a man you recognize as Joe, a homeless guy who used to live all over the place in Mike’s neighbourhood.

“Did you know him?” Dave asks, looking slightly worried.

Nodding, you say, “Yeah, he’s my ex-boyfriend. Or was.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, Brad.”

“Nah, it’s okay. I haven’t seen him for ages and we didn’t really part on good terms.”

You hope that Dave doesn’t notice the slight quiver in your voice.

Stepping forward, he just embraces in you in a tight hug and doesn’t ask any more questions, which you’re grateful for.

Your heart is racing, as well as your mind. If your past has come back to haunt you it’s doing a pretty good job so far.

***

Days pass by uneventfully for a while and you’re fooled into a false feeling of certainty. Life with Dave is going pretty well so far; with both his and yours incomes you have enough to pay for the flat and a decent amount of various forbidden substances. Sometimes you can afford even food.

After a while you manage to forget everything about the weird letter and a newspaper article. To suppress it into your subconscious. So the upcoming confrontation strikes you as a really unpleasant surprise.

It’s Saturday so the club you’re working at is opened till early morning. It’s already dawn when you reach the condo you share with Dave.

Upon entering the flat, everything seems to be normal, dark and quiet. However, when you step inside the living room you realize Dave is already waiting for you. You smile.

“Hey, what are you doing up yet?”

The person sitting on the couch turns towards you and instantly your mind goes blank.

“Hi, Brad. Long time no see, eh?”

Chester.

“What the fuck?” Is the only thing you manage to rasp out.

Suddenly though your brain kicks into gear again and you add, “Where’s Dave?”

“You don’t need him anymore, Brad,” Chester says with a serious expression.

A wave of rage washes over you.

“What have you done to him you sick bastard?”

Ignoring your question, Chester gets up from the sofa and slowly moves towards you.

“Do you have my letter?”

“What? Chester, what the fuck is all this about? Where’s Dave?” You’re starting to be absolutely desperate.

“Chester is dead. It took me a while, but I got rid of him eventually.”

You remember the obituary that was sent to you. The weird talk with Chester your last night in L.A.. Suddenly, everything seems to click, the last piece of jigsaw falling into place in your head. For once you wish you’re wrong. A weird nagging voice in the back of your head tells you otherwise though.

Having always been incapable of dealing with stressful situations, your first instinct is to turn on your heel and run for the door.

So you do just that.

You’re reaching for the doorknob when strong hands grip your arms and turn you around, pressing you against the wall.

Being in the hall now, you have a view into the small bedroom you share with Dave. The doors aren’t open all the way but still enough for you to see the pair of motionless feet peeking from behind the door.

You gulp and close your eyes, the situation too overwhelming for you to handle in any way.

“You don’t need them, Brad. You have me now. I can be whoever you want me to be.”

Chester leans in closer and whispers in your ear, “You want Dave? I’ll be Dave. Or Mike. Or Scott. Anyone. Just tell me what you want, Brad. I’ll do anything.”

He pauses slightly for emphasis and then adds, “I love you. Told you I’d do anything to be by your side.”

Still not opening your eyes you turn your head away from the man pinning you to the wall and say, “You’re insane.”

“I will be if you want me to.”

Finally, you look at Chester, not able to resist anymore.

There’s the maniac grin again, splitting his face in two, his pupils dilated and unfocused.

“I want you to leave me alone,” you whisper hoarsely.

Chester’s smile grows even wider and the chuckle he lets out sends chills down your spine.

“Never. You’re stuck with me, Brad.”

You just gulp and close your eyes again, hoping this is just some drug induced nightmare.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a slightly edited version of a song by Nick Cave. 
> 
> Also, thank you to Elisa for the beta :)


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